Serving Lola

“This is bad,” Marienna told her over the phone later that night. “Really bad.” “I know. This can’t go on. We can’t have intimacy of any kind, gentle or brutal, from here on out. I wasn’t kidding when I said she was gorgeous. She could get anybody. So why me?” “Because you’re powerless against her, and that’s what turns her on.” “Then how do I stop it, Marienna? She’s my PO, for Christ’s sake.” “There’s got to be someone you can report her to.” “But who?” “I don’t know. Find out who’s the head of the probation department.” Pearl thought a moment. “I suppose I could do that. I’m just afraid of making things worse.” “Don’t be. You have to do something. People need to take a stand against corruption, whether it’s against the police or anybody else in authority.” “Are you really sure I should speak up?” “Absolutely. The more you just roll over and take it, the more shit you’re going to get from her.” “I know what you’re saying. But wouldn’t they just protect their own?” “Maybe. But you won’t know until you try, and by speaking up, they’re at least aware that a complaint has been made against her, even if they don’t investigate right away. This can’t just be happening to you. She’s got to be doing this to others as well. Do you want this to continue?” “No way.” “Then do something about it.” That was exactly what Pearl did the very next day. She had that day as well as the next off since she’d had to fill in for a coworker the previous month. This wasn’t exactly how she anticipated spending her time off, but she knew she had to do something about Lola. She was totally new to this, and so she had no experience with abuse from authority figures and therefore didn’t know exactly who to contact for help. She decided the police department would be the best place to start, rather than go to the very system Lola was a part of. Once she arrived there, she approached the female officer behind the desk. “Can I help you?” she asked. “I hope so. I’ve been sexually abused in my home by my probation officer, and I don’t know who to turn to for help.” The woman’s green eyes blinked with surprise. “Wow, really?” Pearl nodded. “I just need to know where to file a formal complaint and how I can be transferred to another PO.” “Hang on a minute,” said the officer, rising from her seat. “Let me go speak to someone.” “OK.” Pearl paced and fidgeted as she scanned nearby bulletin boards on which various criminals wanted for this and that were pinned, along with a few that had been captured. A few minutes later, the woman returned with a male detective. “Right this way, please,” he said with a neutral tone and expression. Pearl followed him through a maze of desks, most of which were occupied by various police officers of various ranks. Some were on the phone, some were writing or reading papers, and some glanced up at her curiously. This made her feel a bit uncomfortable, almost as if she were in some sort of spotlight, until she stepped out of view and into a small cubicle toward the back of the large room. “I’m Detective Davis. And your name is?” “Pearl Avondale.” “What can I do for you, Miss Avondale?” “I need to report my probation officer for sexual abuse, and I don’t know where to go. That’s why I came here.” Detective Davis nodded, still appearing neutral. Pearl wondered if this was a bad sign or if he was just being professional. “Why don’t you tell me what happened?” Pearl spent the next fifteen minutes or so explaining her situation in vivid and embarrassing detail. “That’s the most bizarre thing I've ever heard,” Davis said when she was done. Pearl started to take his reaction to mean he wasn’t going to do anything to help her, but then he added, “I’m very sorry to hear you’ve had to go through that. No law-enforcement official should ever be involved in such a thing. We’ll definitely look into the matter and get back to you as soon as we can.” “Thank you so much,” Pearl said in relief. “What do I do in the meantime? I’m to report to her tomorrow.” “Just put in your appearance as usual and do your best to act as if nothing’s amiss.” “And when she comes to my door?” “Don’t answer.” After she signed some papers, she left the police station with a little bit of hope. She hoped that she would be transferred and that there would be no further “house calls” from Lola.